The thought of their faces, and particularly of her aunt’s, as it would meet the fact— disconcerted, unfriendly, condemning, pained—occurred to her again and again. The manager stared at the empty doorway for a space, shrugged, and returned to his ledgers. "Thames, this is no forgery. On gaining a stack of chimneys at the back of the house, he came to a pause, and again unmasked his lantern. Are you satisfied?’ Grudgingly, Jack Kimble took back the coins. They showered together. She felt a little ashamed of herself, a bit of a hypocrite. Anna sent her away.
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